


O Tan-Faced Polish Boy

by Sweety_Mutant



Category: The Great Escape (1963)
Genre: ( a little bit), (stalker alert), Angst, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Movie, Willie's a bit creepy, internal POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6548563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweety_Mutant/pseuds/Sweety_Mutant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was nothing interesting in Willie's life, nothing but a boring routine, until somebody came...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was mainly inspired by this poem by Walt Whitman [(x)](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/180826), "O Tan Faced Prairie-Boy"... because studying Whitman in Uni messed up with my brain.  
> The fic was also part of my projects for Camp NaNoWriMo April 2016. This means that it is already finished, and I'll update it regularly. 
> 
> Actually, I got this headcanon because of the poem, but in reality, I don't picture their meeting/relationship like that. I just got obsessed about that stupid poem, and I really wanted to imagine them like that for once. 
> 
> I hope you like it and have fun reading!

They say that when as you grow older, time flies faster. A year is like a season, a season a month and a month a mere day.

Willie was not an old man, by any standards. Towering at twenty-three years old, he had outgrown his still boyish features and sweet teenage attitude. And yet he felt old. Old, as if every day of the past ten months had lasted a year each. Old, because time did not pass, never passed behind barbed wire.

The first eternal days, Willie had spent them pacing back and forth in his hut. A still wild animal, not yet coerced into submission. He had used time to learn. The habits and customs of Prisoner of War camps. The variations in authority, earning respect. He met people. Grim people, determined. Younger, who cared? He was slipped into their blooming, disorganized committees. Some came and some left. He learnt names. Would he use them again?

For almost a year, Willie moved from one identical day to the other. Sometimes, there would be a spark of life. A flash forward into the world, a flash back into another world. New prisoners. Red Cross Parcels. A delayed, lost letter which said nothing.

They moved. New camp, same chaps. The escape committee became an organisation. Their charismatic tyrant of a leader, Roger don’t-ask-about-my-eye-and-don’t-question-my-authority Bartlett, appointed him as the head of their team of tunnel diggers.

How ironic that the baby faced blonde was the first to bury himself underground for hours, shovelling tirelessly.

An escape attempt. Another. Alone. With a faceless comrade. Outside, he breathed again. He felt life coursing through his veins, adrenaline and hours that felt like seconds.

He was a whole part of the organisation now. It felt good to be trusted. Trusted but alone. They were, all of them, very nice to him, but not even with the members of his team was Willie able to form bonds.

Roger was out of his league. Willie did not even wish to try to reach him.

The youngest of them all, so Royal Navy that you could not yet call him by his first name, was trying to reach Roger.

The older ones… reminded Willie that yes he was young. Better not to forget it.

The higher ups… reminded Willie that there was still a world outside. A world so easy to forget, when you could only try to reach it.

All alone in his bunk, he was a crucial part of the whole.

Yet, during the dead eternities of the night, Willie wished. He did not know what he wished for, besides escaping and getting back home.

As the thirteenth month came to an end, something happened.

Willie was tidying his too few belongings. A card from his sister, happy New Year, may 1941 bring you joy! Presents from his mother, not yet exchanged. A bar of chocolate, tasteless biscuits… the noises of a convoy.  He put his cigarettes in his breast pocket and left his room.

Most of the camp looked through the windows, the wires, all eager to see the new faces.

They’ll bring news of the outside world?

There may be someone I know!

I wonder how many they are!

Willie was leaning against a wall, facing the main entrance. Poor souls. They were quite few, two lorries.

Stretching their legs, walking gingerly after ages and hours of journey. In a relatively ordered line, the guards made them enter the camp, and they were met there by the Senior British Officer.

Formalities.

Those were new, Willie could see it. Some still bloodied, all sporting alert eyes and looking alive. All alike. Willie swept his eyes over them. All the same. He blinked. The sun had kissed one of them.

Willie could not keep his eyes off the tan-faced man. Hair like charcoal. From afar, Willie could not see his eyes, nor guess his age. From afar, all he could see was radiating warmth. It burnt his eyes, and finally, he averted his gaze.

The crowd took a few seconds to disperse. It took less time than that for duty to find Willie, in the person of MacDonald.  With duty came the end of his reverie, work and distraction keeping Willie busy throughout the day. Yet, deep in the dark underground, he was still mesmerized by a ray of sun, so striking amid dull faces and grey soil.

All day long, Willie worked and, little by little, he forgot about the morning.  The soil’s too wet, need more wood, behind schedule yeah sure we can do that. The evening came, the new prisoners were getting acquainted with their new kingdom.

Whispers were flying among the organisation members. Who was already known, and who looked like he could be a recruit. Well. It was not really Willie’s business for the moment. His team could use more hands, for sure, but the decision was not his. Not now at least. Not until every possible threat had been thwarted by the Intelligence.

He was tired. After a too short too cold shower, Willie was dragging his feet back to his bunk with heavy lids and his mind already asleep.

But no. There was someone, sitting on the bunk underneath his. Since Willie had moved to the camp, there had never been anyone there. It was a constant in his life. No one beneath and the ceiling above.

So what was this man doing here? Of course, they arrived today, thought Willie. Of course… In the dim light, the man turned around, sensing Willie’s presence. Too big for this room. Too warm.

Unlike anything Willie had ever seen. His eyes… An unsure glance at Willie’s own dumbstruck expression. A little bit too close.

The young but already lined face was for a second taken aback. A shadow passed over it. Insecure. Still looking at Willie, he took his not yet opened pack and took a step backwards. Willie did not move. Did not say anything, not even try to school his features to look a tad friendly.

Not a word had been uttered, yet Willie understood that gesture too well. He was going to leave. No. Not happening. Willie was not, did not mean to look threatening. He wanted to say that the man was more than welcome to stay. And beautiful. And that Willie had not been able to keep his eyes off him that morning. That he really did not mind him staying. And of course, putting words on too many thoughts, he ended up making a fool of himself.

“Oh… no no no! It’s… it’s okay. I was… just surprised. Surprised. You’re welcome to stay! Really! A… anyway, I’ve got things to do!” Willie darted out of the room.

My. Of course, at half past eight, he had things to do. What an idiot!

This man… he had the greenest eyes Willie had ever seen.

Hands in his pockets and still red in the face, he walked with no aim. The curfew was in half an hour. That gave him time to think, no?

Greener than the luscious grass of Eden.

What an impression he had made!

Cheeks still red with embarrassment, Willie found shelter in the recreation hut, willing himself invisible amid the noises of small talk and the card games. But even there, his mind kept chastising him.

He was quite a loner, true. But was he so used to being alone in the middle of everybody that… It was the surprise, he told himself. Only the surprise, he had done nothing wrong.

He would get back to his hut and give the man excuses.

He would go to sleep then, and when the morning would come, he would invite this tan-faced, silent man to share a cigarette with him over breakfast. They would get acquainted… And Willie would feel at peace with himself again.

Yet, unlucky as he was, when he got back to his hut and bunk, the man was already asleep. Facing the wall. His pack was in the shared closet. At a respectful distance from Willie’s.

Without knowing what to think anymore, except that he really owed the man excuses, Willie slipped between the covers, too exhausted to even dream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter two, enjoy!

Willie woke up to a familiar ache in his knees and back. Staying too long in their narrow tunnel did not leave the body unscathed. He yawned, the hut gradually waking up around him. He jumped out of bed… and it took him a few seconds to remember that yes… he had a bunkmate now.

Said bunkmate was still asleep, the sheets slightly crumpled around him. One of his arms lying on the covers.

Large hands, battered, large arms. Broad shoulders. With twenty arms like this, I could dig all the way to England in a week. Maybe not. Still.

Willie spent the morning digging, wondering. This man… he wanted to escape, didn’t he? They all wanted. He would not refuse an opportunity to leave. Willie was certain of that. Few wanted to sit out of the war. A man with such intense eyes, no way he would refuse to fight.

Willie would let a week or two pass. To get acquainted, then to ask the fateful question. Of course, he would have asked Roger and MacDonald first. Roger would have enumerated the reasons why it was impossible to recruit him, then he would have shared a glance with his right hand man.

Nobody knows him.

Can he be trusted?

Who would vouch for him?

What do you think Mac?

What do you think? What are you thinking Willie, asked his mind during lunch break. He did not know him. His mind-Roger was right.

The afternoon ended early. Distracted as he was, Willie did not hear the tell-tale rumbling above his head. Cave in. Two days of work ruined, sand between his teeth, dirt in his eyes. Finding sleep that night would be hard. For hours, the fear and the weight on his chest remained.

Much to his surprise, he did not see his beautiful stranger that night. His belongings were here, in the closet, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he has a friend somewhere else in the camp, thought Willie. Maybe he… Why am I so disappointed not to see him?

As predicted, he did not sleep that night. He dreaded the hour when he would have to bury himself again. But somebody had to do it.

 

Willie learned about the escape attempt in the morning. Caught at the last moment, in the dark of the night, nearly out. He smiled to himself, though he was sad for his stranger. The usual punishment, solitary confinement… They all hated it, and tried to avoid it at all cost. A pang in his chest. His tan-faced boy was too beautiful to be locked up between concrete walls. His limbs needed space, his eyes some light to reflect. Twenty days would be so long for him.

For them both, Willie did not allow himself to think. He had yet to apologize, and wanted to grow accustomed to the other man’s presence.

 

* * *

 

Twenty days passed like a too long blur. Willie wondered if the man’s tan would disappear after so much time away from the sun. He wondered if the light in his eyes would be dimmed. And on the twenty-first morning, Willie was there. When the goons released his stranger from the cooler, he was waiting nearby.

The man stood unmoving, haggard for a few seconds. It took time for the eyes to remember what the sunlight looked like.

“Welcome back.”

The man blinked. Twice. 

Willie hoped that his smile looked convincing and warm. He was glad. Glad to see that the man’s warmth had not worn out. He did not hope for an answer. The man blinked a third time. Willie went on, anything to break the silence.

 “Look, I’m really sorry for yester… for the other day. I was just surprised… I–”

“It is okay.”

The man’s voice was deep, slow. An accent Willie did not recognize. An accent that sent shivers down his spine. He was the one silenced now. He needed to hear this voice again. He had to say something. Anything. Anything…

“Was it your first try?” That could have been worse.

His question was met by silence. The man looked like he was deep in thoughts. Was he puzzled by the question, or by the attention? Willie feared, for a second, that he had gone too far. Outstepped the boundaries.

He backed away. He had to give the man space. Yet, this time, he did not bolt. He waited until the man walked past him, heading for their hut.

He was foolish, to wish for an answer. He should not take things for granted, he knew this already… For the first time since long ago, silence unsettled him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, kudos and comments are always welcome! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter three folks! Enjoy ;)

The meeting that evening was longer than planned. They were still behind schedule, and whispers of some men moving to a new camp, further north, were spreading. They needed to work faster. Get a few chaps out before the Organisation was split again. The Germans were on edge since a few days, and the stooges had more and more trouble keeping them at a safe distance from the tunnelers and the forgers.

It would rain in a few days. Or so the sweep had said. The Forger chipped in something about birds flying lower.

Roger cursed. Willie saw the tunnels flooded. Not happening.

He could feel a headache coming. For half an hour now, Roger, MacDonald and the scrounger, Bristol, had been talking about so many possible outcomes… Willie did not understand how they could keep it up, this constant thinking.

As each went back to his hut and bunk, Roger’s last words were echoing in Willie’s head. We take all the risks needed. Press on.

The next days would be hard. Before slipping inside the hut, Willie looked at the sky. It would not rain. He would finish the tunnel on time and it would not rain. It rained on Britain, not on Germany. That’s how things were.

Silently, he climbed the ladder to his bunk. He heard a faint noise coming from the lower bunk. Before falling asleep, he imagined that his silent stranger had waited his return to fall asleep. It was a foolish thought, but lulled him alright.

The tunnel was bigger than Willie remembered. He could stand up inside, and stretch his arms without touching the walls.  Something was wrong, wasn’t it? They never built tunnels this big, and it did not smell right. It should have smelled stale and suffocating. Instead it smelled wet, like the Thames’s banks. Wet, like a rainy evening.

The rain… As soon as he thought about it, Willie heard a deafening sound, coming closer, closer and closer. The flood hit him, too strong. It took him away in a whirl of foam and dirty water. Willie was struggling to keep his head above the water. He could not swim, the water was too strong. Water invaded his lungs, choking him. He tried to fling his arms, his mouth opening and closing, his skin turned blueish as he sunk. His eyelids closed, and the pressure on his lungs hurt like falling from the sky all over again.

Suddenly, he felt another weight on his shoulders. Two warm lifelines, pulling him back above the water. When he touched the surface, his eyes open and he sucked in a long, lifesaving breath.

Nightmare.

His chest heaved. His eyes did not believe that he was safe. The sheets were damp with sweat. He blinked. On his shoulders, two warm hands. What?! Was he still dreaming?

“You had a bad dream.”

No dream could have this voice. Willie closed his eyes, willing his breathing to calm down.

“Thanks… thanks… I’m sorry I awoke you.”

In the darkness, Willie could see the man looking quizzically at him. He took his hands away, and looked like he was about to say something else.

“Thank you.”

Willie heard him lie down on his bunk again. Did that mean that the conversation was over? But… But why had he thanked him? Why now? Willie knew that he would not fall asleep again, and instead he thought about the last feet of dirt separating them from freedom.

It rained the next morning. It rained dogs and cats, and a quick look inside the tunnel was enough. Digging with this weather would be suicide.

It rained again the next day.

The grey clouds prevented the forgers from working correctly. The whole camp was buzzing with tension, boredom. Several arguments ended in fights. From time to time, a brave sod would dare to go out, running to another hut. A few minutes after, another would come in, more drenched rat than man.

Willie was bored to death. Bored of playing the same games, bored of worrying about the tunnel.

The third day, he spent the morning looking through the window. When his bunkmate came back from the showers, Willie instinctively offered him a cigarette. Silently, the man took it and Willie lit it for him. They smoked.

Smoking slowly was a necessity here. It allowed more time for the taste to settle in, and more time from the sweet drug to enter the body. The scarcer a pleasure is, the longer you make it last.

Between two slow puffs of smoke, Willie wondered how he could start a conversation. This had to be the right moment. They were alone… He realised he did not even know the man’s name. He tried not to imagine what it could be. Was it the right time to ask? Yes. No. The stub burned his fingers. Too late.

The next day, the rain stopped but the compound was a muddy sponge. There would be at least two more days of boredom before they could start working again. Willie spent again the morning in front of his window. Again, he offered a cigarette to his bunkmate.

But this time, it was different.

“Thank you.”

It took a few seconds for Willie to realise that the words had indeed existed.

“You’re welcome!” Think quickly! Don’t let it end there! “By… by the way I’m William Dickes. But everybody call me Willie.”

The man seemed to process the information for a few seconds. Willie had a warm smile plastered to his face, and it willed his muscles not to falter. Look friendly, look friendly, look friendly dammit!

“I am Flight Lieutenant Daniel Velinski.”

“Well, it’s nice to know you then! I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner… I…”

“It is okay.”

Willie was ecstatic. His stranger now had a name. It was the first step towards a healthy friendship.

A little bit of the fantasy disappeared and the man became more real. Fantasies did not have names nor substance. They were fleeting and peculiar things.

Willie repeated the name over and over again in his head. He liked it. Daniel Velinski… Velinski. That could explain the accent. He had to ask, now.

Of course, he did not dare to. It was too soon, wasn’t it?  Now that he had had an answer, Willie did not want to rush things. He still felt that Daniel was a wary, wild animal, not at all domesticated like him. He would have to give him time. To allow his silence a more important place.  
Willie wanted more. To know more about him, to learn to like him. For the first time since his capture, Willie felt that he had stumbled onto something he wanted to keep. Something to hold on to.

He was thinking about what to say next, maybe offer him another cigarette, when Willie heard someone knock on the door. Before he had time to say anything, the door opened.

“Good morning chaps, I’m sorry Willie but there’s _somebody_ who wants to see you, right about now.”

Willie looked up, having recognised Cavendish’s voice. He did not dislike the surveyor, but right now he was the last man that Willie wanted to see. And that somebody… there was only one person in the camp who could want to see people at ten o’clock in the morning, beside the SBO and the Germans.

Reluctantly, Willie stood up and left the room with a lingering look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I hope you liked it, as always, thanks for reading and stay tuned for more! ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter guys! Have fun reading!

“What does he want?”

“How should I know? I’ve just met Mac who told me to gather you and join everybody in the old man’s room. We’ve got to find Blythe too.”

Willie sighed. Why did Roger had to schedule a surprise meeting now? Was he bored or something? They walked to Blythe’s room, and found him drinking his tea peacefully. He followed them without a word, and the three of them made it to the SBO’s room.

Inside, most of the important members of the X Organisation were gathered. Roger looked, if possible, even more sullen than usual.

They closed the door, a stooge watching outside. The SBO and Roger shared a look, then he began:

“I have bad news,” Willie felt a knot forming in his stomach.

The tunnel had crumbled.

They had been discovered.

Something dreadful had happened.

Something dreadful was going to happen…

“This morning, our Kommandant confirmed the rumours. They are going to move a third of us into a camp further north, because they have the intuition that we are trouble makers.”

A few snickers, stifled at once.

“He refused to give me the names for the moment, and told me that we have about a week.”

The silence in the room was heavy. This was not possible. They had worked too hard… Willie’s fists balled at his sides. No way.

Roger looked at all of them, furious ice in his eyes.

“We’re going to finish in time, understood?”

All as one, they nodded.

“As planned, we’ll take twenty people out. Mac will tell you your numbers tomorrow in the evening. Colin, I trust you to have finished every paper by Tuesday.”

Roger went on, barking instructions, fuelling the men with determination. Finally, he came face to face with Willie.

“What do you think?”

The question took Willie aback. “I… I don’t think that it’s safe to dig, there is too much water…”

“In two days, do you think that it will have dried?”

“I hope so… I did not check today.”

“Then do it,” Roger put his hands on Willie’s shoulders. “You understand how important it is. Not only for us, but for the men. I need this tunnel to be ready.”

Willie swallowed and nodded. Roger was convincing, and he did not wanted to see him angry or disappointed.

After the meeting ended, Willie headed for the tunnel. He went down with a member of his team. The tunnel was in a better shape than he had imagined. They fixed two wooden boards that had fallen because of the water weight. He scraped a few centimetres of dirt at the end. It was wet, too wet. To dig would be really dangerous.

Once back in the sunlight, Willie went to see Cavendish. He had calculations to do. They went down again, Cavendish making a comment about staining his white scarf, and worked. Willie hurt his hands on the knotted ropes they used to take measures, and at least, during lunch break while munching on tasteless bread, they came with a number.

Willie’s team would have to dig ten feet each day to finish on time if they started the next day. And it left them very little time to deal with potential cave-ins.

That evening Willie fell asleep the moment his back touched his mattress. He had not done too much physical work, but the strain that day had had on his nerves was phenomenal.

The next day, he spent only the necessary time out –roll call, lunch, team shift, roll call, dinner. It was dangerous and unhealthy for him to stay all day in the tunnel. He knew it. He was so driven that he could not stop, and the next day, a member of his team had to force him to rest. The clock was ticking by, yet Willie accepted.

He took a shower – why did it had to be cold? And went back to his room. Daniel was sitting beside the stove, and Willie gave him a tired smile as he went in. They sat there in silence, Willie’s thoughts still in the tunnel.

He imagined that Daniel was looking at him from time to time. It was a nice thing to imagine, those green eyes lingering on his frame.

Then, out of the blue, Daniel said:

“In your hair. There is mud.”

Willie passed his hand through his hair. How could he have been so stupid as not to check his hair! If a goon had seen him in this state… He preferred not to think about this possibility. He was really too tired to work. He did not know what to say to Daniel, and simply mumbled his thanks as he ran to the hut’s showers. While washing his hair, Willie realised that he would have to find an excuse when he came back to his room. He did not yet know if he could trust Daniel with the tunnel, the organisation. He felt like he could trust him, but in their situation feeling was not enough.

Yet, Daniel asked nothing. Not after roll call. Willie was grateful for that, and even more grateful, when Daniel sat down beside him in the mess hall, saying softly:

“You do not mind?”

Willie answered, smiling, “Not at all. You could have asked sooner… well if you wanted to.”

Daniel lowered his eyes, and they ate their dinner in silence. Willie thought that he could grow accustomed to this silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it, stay tuned for more. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the new chapter! I hope you'll enjoy it!

 

The next day passed too quickly. Maybe, they would finish the tunnel. Maybe, yet it became a certitude when MacDonald told Willie his escape number. He had had no right to fail before, it was even worse now.

They would be going out in two days. Twenty two of them, most of them on foot. Mac also handed him his forged papers. They repeated his story. The escape routine.

Yet, instead of asking him to leave as he should have done, Mac looked intently at Willie.

“There is something you want to ask me?”

Of course. Mac had to read him like an open book. At least he had the respect to leave him the dignity of choosing his words.

“My bunkmate… Daniel Velinski. Has security cleared him?”

Mac did not even take the time to think. He had already prepared his answer.

“No, I have not found the time to check on everybody. We’re already all over the place with the escape. He seems trustworthy, but you know that it is not enough.”

Willie nodded. Mac’s argument was logic if not pleasing.

“Yet,” the Scot went on, “I can check on him while you’re out.”

“You’re not leaving,” Willie realised.

“Not this time, Willie, not this time. I’ve got to lie low for a while.”

“I’m sorry for you.”

“Och, don’t be. Anyway, I’ve got work to do, and I’d better not be late or Roger will have my head.”

He opened the door. Just before ushering Willie out, he added, “and I’ll check on your Pole, I promise.”

Outside, Willie beamed like a fool. He knew he could trust Mac to be true to his words. He had a way with people, making them feel welcome and comfortable. Daniel was in good hands with Mac.

...Wait, had Mac said that said that Daniel was Polish? He was infuriating sometimes, always knowing what you spent hours and days trying to figure out. But well, they all had to find a way to survive in this jungle after all.

On the evening of the escape, Willie, though he knew that he could not tell Daniel that he was going downtown with twenty-odd comrades, still gave him a somewhat strangled “… see you later,” before leaving his room. It was not yet late in the evening, So Daniel shot him an awkward glance. Well, he had to say goodbye one way or another, and right now he did not care if he looked stupid or not.

As Willie went one last time down in the tunnel, opening it, the thought that it might indeed be the last time he ever saw Daniel darkened his mind.

Once out, that thought was quickly dimmed by adrenaline. Freedom rushing through his body, constant fear of being discovered…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it, stay tuned for more!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the new chapter! Have fun reading!

How many days did he spent in the woods, avoiding towns like the plague, avoiding the roads and open lands? He remembered sleeping in an abandoned barn, on the outskirts of a bombed village.

Of course, it was all too good to be true. Willie looked like a tramp, dirty, tired, when a civilian passed him by and imagined that it was a good idea to call the local police. In the lorry that was taking him to the closest police headquarters, Willie pondered if he really had had a chance. His map was only a general one, and he was certain to have lost lots of time wandering aimlessly into the woods.

He was lucky though. The man who interrogated him spoke correct English and wanted to finish quickly. Willie was loaned a hotel room to wait in, until he knew where they would send him. His room was pretty, with the usual barred tiny window, the mattress so dirty he did not want to know what had stained it… The usual Prisoner-of-War-first-class-room.

Willie spent most of the two following days trying to rest, his sleep fitful and worried. Too many questions danced in his head.

Where would they send him?

They would not kill him? No, no they would not… No way.

Would the other escapees be there too?

Maybe, he would be sent to this other camp… the one in the north… But what if Daniel was not in his new camp? What if he never saw him again?

It was all too possible. He did not know how many prison camps had been built since the beginning of the war, but if luck was not on his side…

The following evening, Willie was taken out, manhandled into a lorry. He greeted the men already inside. They were seventeen. The lorry drove into the night and after a few stops, their ranks grew to twenty one. Twenty two if Willie counted himself. Some faces he knew better than others… all caught in the end. 

For long hours, they drove. The journey was hard, the road bumpy and not once did they stop to stretch their legs.

They arrived by night – was it the second day? The third? – in the new camp. In the dark of the search lights, it looked no different than the others to Willie. The same barb wire, the same imposing watch towers… Was it really a new camp?

How could he know, how could he recognise anything, in this darkness?

How, when the sun finally rose, how could he guess where he was, from the tiny patch of sky his cell granted him?

He could very well be hundreds of miles away from anyone, anything he knew.

Willie felt a weight on his chest.

Where was he?

Fifteen days, they had told them. Fifteen days of solitary confinement, growing mad on unanswered questions and quietness.

To prevent the madness, Willie imagined.

He imagined the camp outside, drawing a plan in his mind, guessing what it could look like from the glimpse he had had.

He imagined the men in this camp, each face his mind came up with familiar. Most of them did not belong here, but home. A camp peopled by memory folks.

He refused to imagine his home. It would not do, to dwell in despair. Besides, his daydream may become too realistic, and the fall would be only greater then.

So he imagined Daniel.

All alone in his former camp.

All alone in this one.

All alone yet not concerned by it.

Would he try to escape again?

Willie imagined his flight. Where would he go? Westwards, back to England?

Mac had said he was Polish… Eastwards maybe, back home? He was RAF… Why, since when?

Too many questions he had. He did not know if he would ever find the moment, the nerve to ask them. Perhaps, Daniel would even be the one to speak about himself.

No. He laughed. Only his silly brain could imagine Daniel opening up for no reason other than that of sharing with a friend.

Every day of his confinement, Willie then imagined their reunion, if there was to be one. He would try his best not to be overwhelming, but the cooler messed up with his senses, and left him craving light and touch.

Hello Daniel, fancy seeing you here?

… I knew we would see each other again?

… How has it been?

… You missed me?

It was a nice distraction, to play over and over again their reunion in his mind. The Daniel in his mind, if it was possible, talked even less than the real one. His fantasy had changed shapes… He had nothing to give now, but silence… A silence Willie knew he now longed for, so different from the one of his cell.

The silence there was loaded with whispered, counted days.

On the fifteenth, Willie began to call him Danny. It was easier to create a nickname for the fantasy. To give him a more personal shape until he saw him again. If he ever saw him again.

On the twentieth day, Willie was certain that he had only counted eighteen. It was sunny outside of the cooler, a new camp indeed, identical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it, stay tuned for more!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! New chapter!

Strangely enough, it was the _éminence grise_ of the Organisation, the current SBO of this camp, Group Captain Ramsey, who greeted him. Not in person of course. He send somebody to gather Willie and some others as soon as they were out, and welcomed them in his room with a cup of lukewarm tea.

“Welcome back, my boys.”

“Thank you Sir,” they all answered at the same time.

Ramsey smiled at them.

“For the moment, we have sadly no X in this camp. We are waiting another transfer of prisoners from your former camp, so we shall see then. If you have anything to say concerning the Organisation, you can address Wings Commander Bristol or myself. I have your belongings in hut sixteen, and there are plenty of free bunks.”

Some of them acquiesced. Some did not move. Finally, Dai Nimmo, a Lieutenant working with a distraction team, asked:

“Any other instructions, Sir?”

Ramsey got up, leaning on his cane.

“No, I don’t think of anything else. Feel free to blitz out, of course.”

The smiles grew broader as everybody left the SBO’s room. Willie felt electricity coursing through his legs. Finding a bunk before the night was important, sure, but right now he had to know something… He turned back, knocked on Ramsey’s door.

“Come in,” Willie obliged. “Oh, Dickes. Did you forget something?”

Now that he was there, Willie was not so sure anymore that asking Ramsey was a good idea. The older man was looking at him with a gentle smile, sipping his tea. There was a calm friendliness about him, the ones that forces respect and admiration. He was a nice man, and a good commanding officer. Maybe the other way around.

“Sorry, Sir… I was wondering if you knew… I am searching for somebody, from my former camp.”

MacDonald was never there when you needed him. He would have told him everything, the hut number, which bunk, and the exact routine… Well maybe not that much.

“I can maybe help you. Do you have his name?”

“Daniel Velinski, Sir.”

Ramsey smiled. Getting up, he got out of the room and exchanged a few words with a man.

“We will soon know if your friend is here. Do you want a cup of tea while we wait?”

Willie accepted, not knowing how to refuse, not wanting to anyway. He just hoped that the conversation would not be too… He could barely wait for the answer.

The tea was good, for re-used, old leaves. Ramsey was looking at Willie with a mischievous light in his eyes, as if he knew exactly what was going on in the young man’s head.

Minutes ticked by slowly, and Willie answered Ramsey’s questions.

How was Roger doing?

The escape?

The weather?

Finally, Ramsey’s errand boy came back.

“I’m sorry Sir, but I found no one with that name here.”

Ramsey thanked the man and looked at Willie, “I’m sorry that your friend is not there.”

“… It’s okay, thank you for… Have a good day, Sir.”

With a clumsy gesture, Willie left, not wanting to bother Ramsey more than necessary.

He had to find himself a bunk then. In his former camp, he had had the luck to be in a “private room”, and he knew very well that he would not be so lucky here.

Finally, he found a spot. Lower bunk, in the middle of a busy hut. He sat down on the mattress, looking at his hands.

Feel free to blitz out.

Would he? It would be kind of selfish, but without X, he did not imagine a real plan being carried out. He wondered if he would get along with the man inhabiting the bunk above his. The ones facing him. He wondered if they worked for the Organisation.

It was not even lunch time, yet Willie fell asleep sitting on his bunk. The fifteen days of cooler had taken their toll on him, and it was so nice to be surrounded by noise and wood again…

… “Bloody thing had to break again. I swear to you man, I’m never gonna be able to… Oh a new kid!”

Willie blinked at the sound. His back protested. What a great idea to fall asleep sitting… He willed his eyes to open, finding himself face to face with an orange sweater.

“Good… afternoon?”

The man inside the sweater laughed.

“Not yet. You’re new?”

“To this camp yes. I’ve been in the cooler the last two weeks. In the bag for pretty much a year.”

“Welcome back then! I guess you’re part of the bunch that escaped from the other camp. I’m Sedgwick, manufacturer. You already know Haynes?”

Sedgwick gestured to the man behind him. Willie nodded. He had already seen him, he was one of the head of the Stooges. He was in his former camp.

Willie got up from the mattress, stiff, and shook Sedgwick’s hand.

“Willie Dickes. Tunnelling.”

Sedgwick was an Australian with a dirty mouth and a quick laugh. He was easy to get along, loud and Willie did not mind his company, though he longed for Danny’s silent one.

One evening, Sedgwick told Willie that he had quite a reputation here already, for the tunnels of course, but also for being quite taciturn for his young age. At that Willie laughed. Him? Taciturn? Then what was Danny… Oh well… That’s true, most people did not know Daniel yet, and Willie had no real friends. It was quite sad, now that he thought about it.

He had time alone now, to brood and fight this reputation. Oh, he knew himself. He would not, and did not really want, to make friends. To be polite with someone, share a tea or two, did not mean they were your friends. Because sharing two awkward words and looking like a complete fool… that meant something? Sensing that he would not like where those specific thoughts would take him, Willie decided to stop thinking altogether for the day and get acquainted with his new environment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new chapte is here. Enjoy!

In a few days, Willie knew the camp by heart. Every hut, the best spots for potential tunnels, which goons were arseholes and which ones were comprehensive. He asked for news of his team. He discussed a few possible escape spots with Bristol and Ramsey. He even read a few books and got involved in poker plays. He usually won them, and his cupboard was soon fuller. Mainly cigarettes, which he could not wait to share with Danny. A box of biscuits too.  

There was also work to do. A few blitz out were overseen. He helped, but was never part of it. Rumours flew back and forth between jailors and prisoners. Between two worlds. Most were far-fetched, but Willie clung on some of them.

Any of them that spoke of transfers, of convoys.

Two weeks passed, until Ramsey shared with the organisation that this time, the rumours were true. There was going to be a transfer to their camp. As a result, the camp had to be enlarged.

For days, Russian prisoners worked alongside German soldiers to build the new compound. A few PoWs, entirely trustworthy, of course, were picked to help them.

What was nailing planks and moving heavy crates when you could scrounge feet and feet of electric wire, screws, wood… They could calculate everything needed.

Willie was among those chosen PoWs. Working would have felt quite good if he was not so famished. It made time pass in a blur, and sleeping easier.

Working under the scorching summer sun even made him long to be underground again, a feeling a few well-timed nightmares choked to death. He could not long for that. Sun burns were better. Smelling of sweat was far better than smelling like a damp cellar. Splinters in the palms, he could do with, sand in his mouth, he preferred not to try again. 

Yet, summer was the escape season if there ever was one. So he dug. He chopped wood. Dug. Was buried alive, slept two hours per day. He could feel his arms wiry, iron like. He could feel his mind melt.

At last, the new compound was finished, ahead of schedule, if they were to believe the Germans.  The transfer could take place. The Germans were too pleased. Way to happy for some of the men, and oh surprise, on the last day of construction, with a lot of coming and going, there were eight men lost between the morning and the afternoon roll call.

It had been Bristol’s idea. Ramsey had replied something like “You’re not even waiting for Roger?” Willie had refused to go. Too tired. More like waiting for Danny. This would be the right convoy, he had no way of knowing. Sedgwick had asked Haynes to take care of his tools.

The evening, the Germans were not pleased at all. Ramsey had all the trouble in the world to maintain a serious face. Willie regretted his decision to stay. He thought of Danny, his eyes… his imposing figure sitting in a crowded lorry, his head bowed, asleep among too many men. He stopped regretting. He hoped, that Danny was indeed in that convoy. Oh, he hoped so much!

Two were caught the morning after. Willie went on hoping.

It was already late in the afternoon when the lorries pulled up in front of the camp. Everybody gathered at the windows, curious like children, some of them apprehensive. 

Willie’s eyes darted from man to man, searching the familiar tanned figure. At last, he spotted Danny, a few steps behind MacDonald and Roger. No, Daniel, remember, his name is Daniel, not Danny. Danny is the green-eyed fantasy that helped him fall asleep, the ghost to whom he spoke in the dark of the cooler. His imaginary friend from far away. Daniel was real. He was maybe not even his friend, not yet. He could not have forgotten about him… not he could not. Danny…el walking side by side with Mac…  It could only mean good news. In Willie’s fantasy world, they would have cleared Danny, he would already be a part of the Organisation… and he would be the one to greet him. He would walk towards him, radiating warmth and smiling…

But of course, real life and fantasies never play the same game, and Willie was the one to run – no, not run, just walk at a slightly hurried pace. He slalomed between the incoming prisoners, the men greeting each other, trying his best to catch Daniel’s attention… Finally, MacDonald saw him and tapped lightly Daniel’s shoulder, who then saw him. Willie waved, still walking amid the sea of men.

Excruciatingly long seconds later, they were reunited, and Willie all but shouted:

“Danny! I missed you!”

He had not thought before talking, _again_.

“…Danny?”

The same tan, the same eyes. Green like confusion.

“Oh… Sorry. The nickname just came naturally to me…” I was used to call you like that in my head… Do you have a nickname for me too? Am I important enough?

“It is okay.” A corner of his mouth twitched up. “I like it.”

Willie stood frozen on the spot. He was the one confused.

“You… like it?” It was surreal. “I can call you Danny? For real?”

He nodded, “If you want.”

Willie beamed at Danny. He wanted to take his hand and lead him somewhere, anywhere, just as he had done with the fantasy in his head.  He shook his head. No, that would be silly. He did not know what to say anymore. He had too many questions, important ones. He was not sure what to ask, something like “Let’s find you a bed so now you know about the organisation I saw you with Mac.” Yet, it was Danny who spoke first.

“MacDonald told me everything.”

_Everything?!_ Oh my oh my… If he was not so busy being caught up in a parallel world where fantasies were true, Willie would have kissed Mac. Well, if Mac was not already busy playing Roger’s shadow and talking with Ramsey, he would have thanked him. He would thank him later. He was happy. All the important questions in his mind disappeared, only to be replaced by darker ones. Do you want to work with us? With me? I want you to work with me. Go down underground with me.

The crowd slowly dispersed around them. Lost in his thoughts, Willie did not notice the peculiar glances some prisoners threw at him. He was unmoving, his smaller frame shadowed by Danny, his eyes gleaming with unvoiced thoughts. 

Naturally, Danny began to walk, followed by Willie close behind him.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to find a bed.”

Wait. No. You have to stay with me, right? Had he found Danny again, only to lose him so soon? Willie did not want to be far away from him, as close as the neighbouring hut might be. He wanted to have Danny in the same room, above him every night.

“Oh, come then. Follow me!” His hand almost reached out to Danny’s, and Willie led him to his hut.

Sedgwick’s bunk was free – for now. He could…

“Oh yeah, sure you can,” answered Haynes. “I’ll be moving to one of the new huts to be with a b’y. I’ll bring Louis’s stuff with me, he won’t mind.”

Willie smiled enthusiastically. He knew very well that he must have looked like the perfect fool to Haynes, a five years old asking his mother the permission to have the dog sleep in his bed.

 

Before leaving, Haynes added:

“Oh, and by the way Willie, I saw Mac. There will be a meeting tonight, eight PM.”

Danny threw his pack on his bunk. He scrabbled inside a few seconds, taking out a cigarette.

“Want to share?”

Willie nodded. Of course I want to. It was a wonderful feeling, to realise that Danny had not forgotten, that he, too, had appreciated their quiet time together.

They sat down on Willie’s bunk and smoked in silence, as if the last weeks had never happened. They shared the stub, from hand to hand and mouth to mouth. The taste of tobacco was then the least of Willie’s concerns.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, enjoy!

The evening came, and with it nervousness and tension. Willie would take Danny along with him, of course? He would have to ask first, of course. Now that Danny knew about the organisation, there was no reason… no obstacle… He wanted to escape. He had tried to. He would find his place in one of the teams, and they would work hand in hand… Willie thought that Danny’s quiet and imposing presence would also be quite a change to the posh stiff upper lip of some members.

A hand on the door, Willie was ready to leave. Feeling that Danny had not yet moved from his bunk, he asked:

“You’re not coming?”

“Where?”

“To… to the meeting, you know…” Willie felt his pulse quicken. Danny knew. Why was he not moving then? Was there something that kept him from following? Something Mac or Roger would have said? “Now that they told you, you can come.”

Danny came down from his bunk, slowly. He got closer to Willie.

“Why?”

That question of course. That damned question on which everything stood.

 “You want to escape. Like us. The more we are, working together, the more likely we can succeed.”

Danny looked at him. Willie’s arguments were logical, but not enough. Not enough for a man still unsure if he belonged. For once, Willie decided to be entirely honest:

 “I would like you to come. I am certain that you will be an asset.”

“I have nothing to give.”

Willie smiled, trying to look comforting. He was again face to face with the scared stranger of the first night. The difference was, now he knew him. Now he could convince him.

“We all have something to give here.”

And indeed, Danny had given them something. He was quickly accepted by the Organisation, especially since Big X himself welcomed him warmly among their ranks. Danny was dedicated, strong, and of course Willie asked if he could work in his tunnelling team.

At first, Danny did not answer anything. Roger looked at him quizzically, then let his eyes wander on every member of the Organisation.

“Any of you have an objection to Willie’s request?”

Everybody shook their heads. Again, Roger looked at Danny:

“Do you have an objection?”

Danny also shook his head, still not talking. Mac frowned, his eyes fixed on Danny. He seemed lost in thoughts, and for a second Willie thought that he would have an objection. That he knew something… had realised something… but no nothing. Mac just smiled at Danny before turning to Ramsey, then to Roger.

“Well, everything is perfect then. Let us carry on,” said the latter.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, enjoy!

After the meeting, Willie dreaded to ask Danny anything. He wanted his friend to at least acknowledge the decision, say anything. He had given him a choice, had he not?

Now, he had to explain how the Organisation worked. He found out that Mac had already done quite the job, as if he had foreseen Danny's role in the Organisation.

Willie explained the Stooge system, he introduced Danny to most of the important members.

Lastly, they got down in the tunnel together. There was electricity in the air, a tension so thick that Willie wondered if the air was indeed breathable. His limbs were heavy, he felt as if it took him hours to show Danny everything. When they climbed up the ladder again, he let out a breath. It seemed to him that Danny had held his own all this time.

They were scheduled to work the next day, and Danny assured him that it would be okay.

And okay it was. More than okay, fantastic. He dug with dedication and skill. Willie was more than glad that he had been key to this. Danny was his foundling, the pupil that would soon surpass his teacher. It was alright to Willie though. His admiration for Danny did not fit with this role of a teacher.

Digging, working side by side, a week had passed them by in a spur, and another escapee was caught and brought back to the cooler. 

“I can’t say that I’m glad he’s here again, but we were missing our Manufacturer,” said Willie to Danny. Their tools needed fixing, and the sooner the better. Of course, soon would be in two weeks. Two days after, two more came back.

Now, Bristol was the only one missing. Not surprising, thought Willie. He was one of those with the better chances since the beginning. Train tickets, he could fool anyone when speaking German… Not surprising indeed that he was not yet caught.

It would soon be time to go out again. Willie knew that he and Danny were scheduled to go. The tunnel was small and narrow, but finished. Roger had at first been sceptic with letting his two best tunnellers go, but a comment whispered by Mac just loudly enough for everybody to hear was enough to convice X.

It was true indeed, that they knew almost nothing of the region surrounding the camp. They would be back soon enough. All of them.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Chapter here! Enjoy!

Willie sat down, his back to the wall. All of them indeed, brought back to the camp soon after the escape. The morning after. What a shame? At least, opening the tunnel with Danny, running, walking a few miles side by side... Those were memories Willie would never forget.

Danny's quietness as they strode through woods, his tanned skin and black hair which blended in the dark trees, which blended so much more than Willie's childish complexion and too pale eyes. They had resisted capture, of course, but soon enough firearms had been directed at them, and Willie had known it was the end when Danny had raised his large hands in submission. They had shared looks of sorry it's my fault on the ride back to the camp. They shared looks of oh of course no it's not your fault.

Closing the door to Willie's cell, the guards might have thought him tired and weak, with his posture supine, his arms lying flat at his sides, his head laid back, but the look on his face was one of relaxation. Serenity. In the cell adjacent to his, Danny was standing up, just a wall between them. A wall between them. For fifteen days, they were worlds apart yet so close. Nearly as close as they had been in the tunnel, nearly as close as they had been out in the woods. Willie could almost hear Danny’s breathing if his imagination listened well. Few words were exchanged, an acknowledgement there, a simple name spoken in a question that never needed answering. Days passed. Willie came to appreciate the silence even more. Not a wasted word, each said with the thoughtful uncertainty one has when speaking a foreign language.

Fifteen days with a wall between them, and yet Willie learnt more about Danny than he ever did before. He also told more about himself than ever before. Grey concrete and bars help to open up, when you have nothing better to do.

So Danny was indeed Polish. Ten years older than Willie, he saw Warsaw in flames, twice. He flew to protect it, yet Warsaw fell. He came to England to go on flying, fighting for his country from afar. He was the one to fall then.

By chance, thought Willie, he had fallen down here, right in front of me…

They had all fallen down, here.

We all fall down.

Willie told Danny how he fell. How he dug. Why.

They had the same reasons, the same purposes. The same sore muscles. It was as if his fantasy was talking to him then, the wall keeping him from seeing reality, yet its catalyst also. Was it easier for Danny to talk when there was nothing in front of him, nothing but a wall? By all means, it was easier for Willie to imagine. To imagine them both on the blank canvas of the wall, moving through life and each other like an eerie animated film.

He imagined Danny as a child without having any idea of what Poland looked like.

He imagined losing a city to an army, amid flames and bombings, when had he been the one to be lost, the one to bomb.

He imagined them younger, meeting then when yet innocent.

When they walked out of the cooler, a quick glance reassured Willie that indeed Danny was beside him. As if he had really been wondering.

 

They were welcomed warmly by Roger, as warm as the chilly wind that announced autumn. It was so normal again, that Willie began to think that maybe, the days were going to be eternal again. That Danny would be as unmoving as he had been, looking at the time passing out of the wire.

Willie sighed over his breakfast. He felt more than he saw Danny’s eyes fall on him. He smiled, trying to look less sullen than his thoughts were. He did not want his dear Danny to think those thoughts. They were the kind of thoughts that turned off the lights in people’s eyes. Willie could not afford that.

Weather in Germany in early autumn was better than in England. There was no torrential rain drenching the streets, no raging Atlantic, no wet cold that creeped inside the bones…

Weather was better in Germany, a bleak sun not even lighting their small plot of land. Willie needed his personal sun, so he kept smiling all through the day.

The meetings took place again, Willie not really listening to escape chains in Czech Republic and answers to letter home. This kind of intelligence was not his field. He was simply doing his job, and that was good enough for all of them. He was doing his job, and Danny was doing his, alongside him. That was good enough for him.

This time, three days ago, their plan had been thwarted. No careful enough? A small mistake? The goons were getting smarter? Each side trying to adapt to any change thrown in his face. He rested his head on Danny’s shoulder, no caring for once for the looks they were given. He was tired. He really did not care about whatever Ramsey was saying.

Sure, they would try again. Sure they would try always. He closed his eyes. Danny’s shoulder was warm. Why was he always so tired when something went wrong? It was like all energy left him then… when he saw that again, again and again they would have to start again. Maybe, he thought, his thoughts blurred by human warmth, he was still too young. Children often gave up after failing at a task. He was no child… He would never give up, he was just tired.

Happy anniversary, day on which I fell. Day, I do not even remember you.

Willie woke up on his bed. You fell asleep, Danny told him.

“You carried me back.” Willie felt silly picturing the scene. He tried to remember something besides falling asleep. He did not, and let Danny lead him through the day. There was nothing to do, nothing at all until a new digging spot was found. Nothing to do but wait until the goons had forgotten. Lie low a day or two. Dig again. Get caught again. Lie low. It was almost like dancing, if he thought about it.

And like dancing, the next move was easy to foresee. They had a new location. The trap was soon ready, Willie thought it was nice, sitting down, watching the ever present stooge and watching Danny’s shoulders when he broke the concrete with the pickaxe…

At last, the trap was done. The same moves, the same pattern, and then the entrance shaft was finished too. It was time to go underground again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Enjoy!

Alone underground, they were kings. A kingdom in which a grown man could not even stand up, and the resident Goddess was unforgiving and cold. They prayed her with makeshifts shovels days after days. Never once they were heard.

They lived in fear of that Goddess every time they went under, yet came back every time. They did not have a choice. Most of the times, they heard the signs, most of the times, they crawled back before she could catch them.

The rumbling came from above them, but they were too late to turn back.

Willie was the first to recover. He had partially turned around, and only the lower part of his body was trapped beneath the dirt. With a few hurried kicks, he freed himself and, not thinking about the dust, the dirt, floating everywhere around him, he grabbed what he recognised to be Danny’s unmoving ankle.

It was his first cave-in. The first during which he had been trapped beneath the dirt. He had already pulled Willie out of the crushing earth. He had seen Willie help team partners, he had helped them too. Still, it was not the same thing now.

Too many thoughts were coursing through Willie’s head, trying to prevent him from acting.

Why is he not moving?

Will he survive?

Will I be able to pull him out in time?

What if he panics?

What if he suffocates?

Why am I not doing anything, dammit?!

He pulled Danny’s ankle. Pulled, calling his name, until he felt Danny move in response. At last. Primal instinct seemed to have taken over Danny, and after excruciated seconds he was free of the earth's yoke.  His arms above his head, a poor protection, his legs moving in confused patterns. Now hauling him by the shoulders, Willie used all his might to pull Danny to him, to settle him awkwardly between his legs.

A curtain had fallen over Danny's skin. Greyish dirt all over him, dulling the warm tan, clouding his eyes. His mouth was open, giving way to panicked gasps.

Yet, his laboured breath was sweet to Willie's ears. Alive.

"You are alive..." whispered Willie.

Danny did not even acknowledge him. Could he see him? Sight was often, along with breath, the last sense to come back. Feeling, touching, were the firsts.

Willie gathered the shocked body in his arms, soothing his hair, handing him the water canteen.

A hand on Danny’s back, helping him to breathe. The other on the side of his head, his neck, his collarbone. Check every part of his body, he is still here, still alive.

Willie brushed the dirt from the jet black hair, thoughts focused on Danny’s laboured breath. Dirt and sand in his lungs.

“Hold on… hold on…” Willie whispered in Danny’s hair like a mantra. Hold on my friend. He had seen so many give up. So many who, once they had been crushed down under hours or work, the earth’s revenge, never accepted to go down again.

So many who could not sleep anymore.

Willie found Danny’s dirty hand and brought it to his lips.

“You okay down there?” came the voice of Sedgwick from above.

“Yeah, yeah… we’re okay…” answered Willie. “You’re okay, Danny, aren’t you?”

Danny found the strength to nod. The void in his eyes terrified Willie. Please… please my friend. Do not abandon me down there.

How long did they stay like this? How long until Danny moved, his body rattled by a violent coughing fit?

Willie’s hand squeezed Danny’s. They locked eyes, their breathing becoming calmer, just a little bit. Again, Willie, too close, too close, brushed his other hand through Danny’s hair. Danny mirrored the gesture, “In your hair…”

His voice was painfully hoarse, so alive. Willie laughed. Genuinely, he laughed until it was painful. Alive, prisoners between the narrow walls of the tunnel. Walls of dirt above, walls of dirt below. Walls all around. Dirt in their hair, their hearts, their clothes, their mouths.

Willie hid his face in the crook of Danny’s neck to stifle his laugh. How did they dare to laugh? The ceiling could crumble again, to punish them for being so alive. It was high time they got back, back to the surface. Squeezing Danny’s hand a last time, Willie disentangled their bodies and they crawled, wary of any noise from above, until at last they climbed the ladder to daylight.

The air was breathable there. The light warm, wood everywhere. Willie breathed in, his eyes closing for a split second.

“’T was a close call,” he said when he stepped out of the entrance shaft, landing Danny a hand. “But there was no major damage.”

“You had us bloody worried up here,” answered Sedgwick. He looked at them with grim satisfaction, up and down, checking for anything that might be amiss. “Now, go wash all this crap off of you. I’ll send some chaps to clean up the mess.” He patted them both on the shoulder and shooed them out of the room.

The shower was liberating. Eyes closed, Willie could feel the dirt being washed off, following the flow of water into the drain. Brownish water. Cross your fingers, do not let it clog the drain. Brownish water, now tinted red.

Willie checked his body. Look out for scratches, sensitive skin made raw from being in contact with the sand. Bloody nails.

He took a few steps, standing behind Danny, still coy. Try not to look at the body, try not to look at the body. Do not look at it like that. It was usual, after a cave-in. Check the other’s body. Usual, still difficult. 

“You have bruises,” he made a gesture, _not touching_ the hip. “You’re bleeding…” This time, he touched, just below the shoulder. A tiny scratch.

Slowly, Danny turned around. Other bruises on his chest. He gestured to Willie.

“It is normal. You do not worry.”

Of course. Willie’s own torso was marred by purplish marks. The Earth’s will to not let them go imprinted on their skin.

“No, it is normal to worry for each other,” said at last Willie.

A few seconds passed, only the sound of the water breaking the silence. Danny was getting out of the shower, his towel around his waist, and why was Willie looking at that part of his body?

“I’m going to be okay.”

Willie smiled. He grabbed his towel too, wondering for an instant if that statement was about the bruises and scratches. What else? Yet, why had Danny waited? Drying himself and putting his clothes back on, Willie told himself that he should stop worrying. Outside of the tunnels, everything was in a way different. Different because it seemed now that there was too much space for their strange closeness.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the new chapter, enjoy!

Months went by, and with them cave-ins, discovered tunnels, more cave-ins and hurried showers because a goon might enter at any moment. Months went by and life went on.

Meeting after meeting, tunnel after tunnel, life went on. Willie saw prisoners come and go. The days no longer felt eternal, now that he had somebody alongside him. Winter was long, cold, the Red Cross parcels were scarce to say the least, but Willie was content.

Biscuits, flour, raisins and chocolate were mixed together to bake makeshift festive cookies. Some hooch was provided, and the PoWs spent Christmas on enemy soil again. The spirit was… joyful. They played card games, sang songs and danced. Willie saw Danny laugh for the first time, yet he could not remember the reason.

Was it a joke? Someone’s antics? The ambiance? Perhaps he had not laughed once, but several times. Willie was getting addicted to that smile.

Danny spoke also more. He was still the most silent man Willie knew, but he could see the subtle changes. He was part of their world now, more than ever.

Willie was on a cloud. He could not wait until the ground was warm and soft enough for digging. He could not wait until he and Danny escaped together again.

On New Year’s Eve, when everybody cheered, Willie took Danny in his arms, startling him.

“Happy New Year!” he said, trying to be heard over the ambient noise. The surprise gone, Danny smiled again, a smile that was this time directed at him, only at him. He beamed in answer.

Happy New Year 1942. They were shipwrecked in the middle of Germany. They knew each other since less than a year, but that year had been the best one that Willie had lived. The longest, the shortest. The very best.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! enjoy!

It was year 1942. Not yet the beginning of spring. It was year 1942, Danny’s tenth tunnel. They were ready to go.

The dozen of them tense, waiting for the trap to be opened. Waiting for the scheduled time, yet more than ready to go.  

Hands shaken, clasps on tense shoulders and nervous backs. See you home. See you in two days. Have faith. Good luck to you all.

Roger and Mac, in front of the trapdoor. Holding each other by the shoulders. Gripping each other, their eyes locked. Far away from the world for a few seconds, too many. Seeing them like this broke Willie’s heart a little bit. Losing a friend that you can still physically reach…

He was beyond grateful that again, Danny was to be his escape partner. Losing him was out of the question.

After months of calling him Danny, of Danny pronouncing Willie’s name with his eastern accent, months of watching each other’s backs in the darkness of the tunnels, they had realised how much things had changed between them.

Never let the other out of sight.

All day long, they were beside each other. They took the decisions together, two equal voices in the midst of the Organisation.

Always, they knew exactly where the other was. Close enough to reach at night, to pull the other out from under tons of dirt.

From wearily sharing a room, they had invaded each other’s personal space until it had melted into one.

The fantasy had disappeared now, giving way to the friend.

_You came, taciturn, with nothing to give — we but look’d on each other,_

_When lo! more than all the gifts of the world you gave me._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this chapter and the fic in general. I am deeply sorry for this AU, but go blame Walt Whitman. It's all his fault!  
> Always feel free to comment it will make me really happy!


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